


punch drunk

by isseysport



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Begging, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, whistles merrily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isseysport/pseuds/isseysport
Summary: Kiyoomi is looking down at Atsumu, fingers gentle underneath his chin as he lifts it.The way the other man is looking up at him is nothing short of adoring, eyes cloudy and almost unseeing. Kiyoomi rubs his gloved thumb along Atsumu's spit-slick bottom lip.“What are we going to do with you, hm?” Kiyoomi says softly, face unreadable.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 220





	punch drunk

**Author's Note:**

> pls b kind to me this is my first fic on this account :] hope u like

Kiyoomi is looking down at Atsumu, fingers gentle underneath his chin as he lifts it. 

The way the smaller man is looking up at him is nothing short of adoring, eyes cloudy and almost unseeing. Kiyoomi rubs his gloved thumb along Atsumu’s spit-slick bottom lip. 

“What are we going to do with you, hm?” Kiyoomi says softly, face unreadable. 

Atsumu’s breath is caught in his throat as his boyfriend pulls at his bottom lip and releases it with a soft pop. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs forced apart by Kiyoomi’s knee resting on the mattress, pressing with the lightest of pressure against Atsumu’s crotch. It’s not enough for Atsumu, whose hands lay at his sides, fists clenching at the sheets, knuckles white. He can’t see anything but his eyes because of the black surgical mask that Kiyoomi has on.

“You can fuck my mouth.” He swallows thickly.

Kiyoomi’s eyes darken at this and he leans down abruptly, yanking his mask down and pressing his mouth against Atsumu’s for a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue and teeth sinking into his bottom lip, pulling a drawn-out moan from the other man. 

“You’re just a slut, aren’t you?” Kiyoomi pulls away to say this and the thread of spittle connecting their mouths breaks, and Atsumu’s mind goes blissfully fuzzy at the sight. Kiyoomi’s voice is perfectly level, his breathing barely affected in comparison to Atsumu’s labored breathing.

The tightening in his pants is becoming unbearable and he’s getting more desperate by the minute.

“Yer slut,” Atsumu breathes out, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He can see Kiyoomi’s eyes follow the motion as he reaches down to grip Atsumu's jaw. Atsumu whimpers at this. He can feel himself flush hot all over, even more than he already has, because he despises the way Kiyoomi makes him feel small and helpless almost as much as he loves it. “Please.” 

“Please what, huh?” Kiyoomi smears the saliva on Atsumu’s chin with his thumb. He drops his hand and reaches down to press the heel of it to the crotch of Atsumu’s briefs, pulling a keening moan from his pretty lips. “Use your words. How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t say it?” His voice gets softer, mouth quirking up into a mocking smirk. “I want to hear you say it again.” 

“Embarrassing,” Atsumu grumbles, gaze shifting sideways, feeling his neck burn. 

“But you like it, don’t you? You know you like it when I talk to you like this.” 

Atsumu takes in a sharp breath, panting from the way Kiyoomi is applying more and more pressure, and the way he’s palming him through his briefs, his ears burning at the humiliation of it all and it’s like Kiyoomi said; he loves every little second of it. 

“Want yer cock in my mouth,” he whispers, eyes slowly raising to lock gazes with his boyfriend. “Want you to use me however ya want,” he says, and he loses himself in the increasingly mindless reverence in his own voice. 

Atsumu watches the way Kiyoomi clenches his jaw, watches the way the flash in his eyes comes and goes like a lighting strike. 

“On your knees.” 

Kiyoomi’s voice is soft as he says this, removing his knee from where it’s been pressing incessantly against Atsumu’s weeping cock, revealing the growing wet patch on his briefs turning the gray cotton darker. He whines in embarrassment before obediently dropping to his knees on the floor. 

Atsumu is rewarded with the sight of the outline of Kiyoomi in his sweats, and his lips automatically part when his boyfriend pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. He doesn’t realize he’s drooling until Kiyoomi reaches down and smears it across his cheek. 

“So messy for me already. Filthy.” 

Atsumu licks his lips, gaze locked on the precome smeared at the head of Kiyoomi’s cock, head cloudy except for the singular desire on his mind. He imagines the feeling of the weight of it in his mouth as Kiyoomi rolls a condom over himself and moves in closer.

“Open your mouth.” Atsumu obeys immediately, wanting nothing more than to be good for Kiyoomi. “Look at me.” 

Atsumu lifts his gaze to lock with Kiyoomi’s, watching as he takes two gloved fingers and presses them against his tongue. Atsumu’s mouth closes around them like instinct, swirling his tongue around the digits. He moans loudly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, opening them to see the way Kiyoomi’s eyes are impossibly blacker. 

Atsumu lets out a whine, tasting the latex tinge when Kiyoomi pulls his fingers from between his lips, but goes quiet as he watches his boyfriend wrap his hand around his cock and bring it to Atsumu’s mouth. He begins rubbing the head of it along the seam of Atsumu’s lips. Atsumu darts his tongue out, licking delicately while the other man watches. 

“Want ya in my mouth,” Atsumu pleads, “please, Omi?”

And god knows Kiyoomi can never truly deny Atsumu of what he wants. 

“Greedy.” But Kiyoomi nods. 

Atsumu tilts his head to give the head of Kiyoomi’s cock a few kittenish licks before taking it into his mouth and digging his tongue into the slit. Kiyoomi’s hand goes to grip the hair at the back of the man’s head, tendrils tightly between his fingers as he tugs. Atsumu moans lowly, eyes fluttering shut. Kiyoomi feels the vibrations from the sounds Atsumu makes as the man takes in his cock inch by inch. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kiyoomi groans. “Look at me.” Atsumu’s golden eyes are wet with tears from the effort he’s putting in to fit Kiyoomi into his mouth, pretty pink lips stretched around him. The way his tears glisten on his skin makes Kiyoomi feel a little lightheaded. “You were made for this, weren’t you?” 

Atsumu can only moan in reply as he begins to bob his head back and forth, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing around him. The wet sound of Atsumu’s mouth when Kiyoomi pulls him off is filthy and they both love it. 

There’s lines of spit connecting Atsumu’s lips and Kiyoomi’s cock, and he licks his lips delicately like he doesn’t have it all smeared on his chin. 

“Aren’t ya goin’ to fuck my mouth?” Atsumu pouts his spit-slick lips, reaching up to wipe at the tears on his cheeks idly.

“Is that what you want?” Kiyoomi presses two fingers into Atsumu’s mouth, unable to help the quirk of his lips upwards when he feels his tongue swirling around them. “Always need something in your mouth, hm?” 

Kiyoomi presses the digits in further, and Atsumu gags a little before he relaxes his throat. He pulls them out abruptly and uses his hand to grip the tendrils of Atsumu’s hair and yanks backwards, forcing the man to look up at him. His lips part like an invitation, eyes shining as their gazes lock.

For a moment, Atsumu sees the way the look in Kiyoomi’s eyes softens as he looks down at him, the tenseness in his jaw relaxes, the grip on his hair loosens.

But the moment is broken just as quickly as it happens when Kiyoomi leans down and kisses him roughly, hungrily, clashing their teeth and stealing all of Atsumu’s breath and leaving him gasping. 

Atsumu’s mouth falls open almost instinctively when Kiyoomi moves closer, head fuzzy as he takes in the way his cock is red and wet with arousal. 

Kiyoomi slides in and begins thrusting into the tight heat of Atsumu’s mouth at a punishing pace, not waiting for him to adjust because he _knows_ he can take it, and Atsumu moans, fists clenched on top of his thighs. Seeing the way Atsumu’s lips stretch around his cock is a sight that Kiyoomi never tires of, and he goes lightheaded as tears slip down the smaller man’s cheeks. He pulls out and slips his sweats and briefs the rest of the way off, kicking them to the side. 

“On the bed.” 

Kiyoomi manhandles Atsumu onto his back, his grip on his hips harsh and he loves it. He yanks the filthy briefs down Atsumu’s legs and throws it somewhere off the bed. Atsumu gasps as the cool air hits his neglected cock. 

Kiyoomi grabs the bottle of lube waiting on the bed, rubbing it between his fingers before reaching down and sliding a finger into Atsumu’s entrance. Atsumu’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, letting out a slow breath.

“Did you play with yourself before this?” 

Atsumu feels the heat rise up his neck as he nods, bottom lip between his teeth as he thinks about how he’d fingered himself in the shower that morning with Kiyoomi’s name on his lips–it wasn’t the same, the thought cut off by a moan as Kiyoomi slides in a second finger. 

Atsumu’s mouth falls open when the other man curls his fingers just so and begins to rub tantalizingly at his prostate, his toes curling at the intense pleasure surging over his body. Atsumu’s eyes flutter at the sensation, tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

“Ungh, ugnh, ungh, Omi, please,” Atsumu pants, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for at this point. He sucks in a sharp breath as he slides three fingers into his hole, expression even and controlled as Atsumu begins to keen brokenly. Kiyoomi rubs at the same spot for what seems like minutes on end; Atsumu doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is that it’s steady, even pressure and it’s not _enough_. 

Atsumu’s eyes keep slipping closed as he gets used to the steady pressure on his prostate, the sensation almost lulling him to sleep. 

“On your hands and knees,” Kiyoomi suddenly says softly, chuckling when Atsumu whines at the emptiness once he’s removed his fingers. He watches the way the man’s pink hole clenches around nothing, mesmerized at the sight. Atsumu gasps at the sharp sting of Kiyoomi’s hand slapping against the flesh of his thigh. His voice is sharp. “Hands and knees. I won’t say it again.” 

Atsumu takes in a sharp breath when he hears a low buzzing that is cut off as quickly as it begins. He looks over his shoulder and sees Kiyoomi holding their prostate massager, lightly coating it in lube. Atsumu watches as he slips it inside him, turning the power to the highest setting and drawing a surprised yelp out of him. Kiyoomi is content just to watch as Atsumu’s eyes roll back into his head, as he shudders with the vibrations. Then the buzzing stops completely and Atsumu gulps for air. It’s only then that he realizes he had been holding his breath. 

“Stop teasin’ me, Omi.” Atsumu is trying so hard to sound firm, but his words come in short gasps.

“But I like playing with you, “ Kiyoomi says mockingly, his eyes flashing with amusement, he leans down again, kissing the insides of Atsumu’s thighs and sucking at the flesh harshly, scraping his teeth over the skin. He runs his tongue over the marks as Atsumu gasps, eyes fluttering. “You’re always so good for me, always taking whatever I give you so well.” 

Kiyoomi pulls away again. And in an instant, that buzzing is back, except this time the man is thrusting the massager in and out. “Do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes, _fuck_ yes,” Atsumu keens, fisting the sheets and staring unseeingly “So good,” he thinks he says, but he’s sure it just comes out as incoherent babbling. Kiyoomi chuckles, and Atsumu can feel his release coming closer but he doesn’t want it to. Not yet. He can’t, anyway.

Atsumu begins to pant harshly, breaths sputtering as he gets pushed closer to the edge. 

“ _Hngh, hngh, hngh, fuck_. _M’ close_.” Atsumu’s breath gets caught in his throat and he stops breathing for a moment. “G-gonna come,” Atsumu gasps, and instantly, Kiyoomi pulls away and he’s empty again. 

“You know you can’t cum without me saying so.” His voice is flat, even and unconcerned. Atsumu goes lightheaded. 

“Omi,” Atsumu is whining again, chest heaving, “Need to come, please. P-please, _please_. Yer bein’ so mean.” 

“You like that don’t you? You said I was making you feel good.” Kiyoomi is taunting him, his tone condescending, and Atsumu’s head goes deliciously fuzzy. “So sensitive today.” 

“Let me come.” Atsumu’s voice is soft, and he’s sniffling, leaking all over his own stomach and the sheets, fingers gripping weakly at the duvet. “Omi, please. Haven’t I been good?” 

Something in Kiyoomi softens for a moment. But only just. “You’ve been perfect for me. You always are.”

And Atsumu feels shy for some reason, sniffling quietly as he glances to the side.

“Do you think you can cum untouched for me?” Kiyoomi asks, pulling away completely and manhandling Atsumu onto his back. 

Atsumu is nearly gone, his golden hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his eyes pooled with unshed tears, lips swollen and red from biting them. The bedroom light overhead illuminates the drying tear tracks on his cheeks. 

Kiyoomi reaches down and uses his thumb to wipe under his eyes. He leans in for a hard kiss, his grip on the man’s jaw harsh. Atsumu can barely muster up the energy to kiss back properly at this point, just a slow slant of the mouth and brush of tongue as his mind clouds over a little more. 

Kiyoomi’s grip on his thigh is harsh when he pulls away, his nails digging into the soft flesh as he speaks calmly. “I asked you a question.” 

“I.” Atsumu swallows thickly, clearing his throat. “I can cum without you touching me.” 

“Such a good boy.” 

He sounds so condescending, so mocking, yet Atsumu revels in the praise. Kiyoomi grabs the bottle of lube from somewhere on the bed, slicking himself up. Atsumu’s tongue lolls out of his mouth a little as he waits, dripping saliva down his chin and onto his collarbone as he takes in the view of Kiyoomi’s cock curling up towards his stomach in arousal. 

When Kiyoomi slides in it’s like all the breath has left Atsumu’s lungs, his hole clenching around the other as he tenses. 

Atsumu lets out rapid, panting breaths in time with Kiyoomi’s thrusts, and he feels himself beginning to shift up the bed a little from the pace and force. Kiyoomi grips his hips tighter, and Atsumu knows it’s gonna leave reminders in the forms of bruises for days. The thought has him burning and he can feel his ears turn hotter at the embarrassment that the idea arouses him. 

“Ungh, ungh, _ungh_ ,” Atsumu begins to keen, mouth falling open as Kiyoomi twists his hips and the angle changes and it’s so, so good. “ _Fuck fuck fuck fuck_.” It’s like a chant at this point, he feels so full, so numbingly sated. 

Atsumu’s lower stomach is sticky with precum and he aches to touch himself but he wants to be good for Kiyoomi so he only clings to the sheets. 

Kiyoomi teases a gloved finger alongside his cock and Atsumu begins to sob, breaths coming ragged as this sense of desperation washes over him and all he can think about is how much he wants cum—how much he _needs_ to come. 

“P-please, _please_ Omi.” Tears are slipping down Atsumu’s cheeks and it mixes with his spit and he can’t, he can’t, he _can’t_. “I need to cum. I need it so b-bad.” 

“You’re so needy today, hm?” The only thing that suggests Kiyoomi is just as affected as Atsumu is the way his voice shakes despite his efforts to keep it controlled and even. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault you’re just a cock-stupid spoiled princess.” Atsumu moans at this, his entire body burning with humiliation. Kiyoomi smiles that smile that’s closer to a smirk than anything else and Atsumu has never hated and loved it more than at this moment. “You can come after I do.” 

And Atsumu’s stomach drops because he doesn’t know if he can last much longer, not with the punishing pace that Kiyoomi is thrusting into his puffy pink hole at a different angle now and hitting his prostate with each snap of his hips, not with the way he toys at Atsumu’s nipples with fingers. 

Atsumu’s mouth hangs open dumbly as the buildup of pleasure becomes almost numbing, his mind empty of anything except his need to cum. 

“God, look at you,” Kiyoomi growls, gripping Atsumu’s slack jaw. “So fucking perfect for me, taking anything I give you so well.” 

Atsumu is crying again, he doesn’t think he’s stopped this whole time and he can feel Kiyoomi coming into the condom, punch-drunk and reveling in the way it feels to be filled with his cock and he needs this so, so badly. 

“P-please,” Atsumu whispers, and he’s not even sure Kiyoomi hears him as he thrusts through his orgasm, moaning loudly as he does. 

Kiyoomi leans down and presses their mouths together in a messy, wet kiss that is more tongue than anything else and he pulls away to press a long kiss to Atsumu’s sweaty forehead. 

“Go ahead, _princess_ , come for me.”

Atsumu’s vision goes white as he feels something snap inside him, like a splintering rope and he comes so hard he feels his legs weakly scrabble at the sheets, his release spurting onto his and Kiyoomi’s stomachs. 

“Ungh, ungh,” he gasps as Kiyoomi takes Atsumu’s cock in his hand and milks him through the rest of it, and the feeling is almost painful because of how sensitive he is. 

It’s one of the best orgasms Kiyoomi has ever given him and he thinks it might just be enough to forgive him for being so mean. 

“Hey,” Kiyoomi says quietly, brushing his thumb along Atsumu’s cheekbones and brushing some tears away, “was that okay? Did I hurt you?” He knows that if he had, Atsumu would have used his safe word or their signals but he still wants to make sure. 

Atsumu shakes his head jerkily, sniffing quietly as he buries his face into their sheets.

“You’ve been so good for me, you’re always so good,” Kiyoomi says gently, leaning his head back a little and pushing Atsumu’s sweat-soaked fringe out of his eyes.

Atsumu continues sniffle through the comedown and Kiyoomi whispers soft praises into his ear, fingers stroking at his skin and tracing patterns that help ground him. Eventually, he drifts off, and he can feel the warmth of a soft washcloth being used to clean his skin, and Atsumu allows himself to sleep, knowing he’s being taken care of. Kiyoomi does nothing but treat Atsumu well. 

Most of the time. 

And when it’s over—

“Yer such a fuckin’ asshole.” Atsumu sniffs. “‘ _You can come after I do’_? What the fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> *runs away*
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/isseysport)


End file.
